Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
We park in front of my dorm, the lot nearly empty. Dylan shuts off the car but doesn’t move to open my door. He looks at me, eyes a little glassy, and asks, “Did you have a good time tonight?”
I could lie, but he deserves better. “Yeah. It was nice.”
He bites his lip, then looks down. “You ever feel like you’re only pretending to be normal? Like, everyone else got the rulebook, but you’re just winging it?”
I blink. It’s the first truly honest thing he’s said all night, and for a second, I see the scared kid behind the swimmer’s grin. “All the time,” I say. “But I think everyone’s just faking it, some better than others.”
He nods, relieved. “Cool.” Then, “I’d like to see you again.”
There’s a crash of loneliness inside me, sudden and sharp. “Me too,” I say. And it’s true, in a way.
He leans in, but stops an inch from my face, giving me space to decide. I kiss him, soft and gentle, tasting a faint tang of tomato and leftover dessert. It’s not fireworks, but it’s not nothing. We hold the kiss for a moment, then break apart. Sadly, my heartbeat is completely normal, and I feel nothing.
“I’ll text you?” he says.
I hesitate but then smile.
“Sure,” I say. “Goodnight.”
He waits until I’m inside the lobby before he drives off, headlights painting the glass with quicksilver stripes. I watch until his car is out of sight, then take the elevator to my floor, each step heavier than the last.
Andie is already back, sprawled on her bed in a haze of makeup remover and cheap sheet masks. “Hey, babe,” she slurs, voice muffled by a mouthful of Skittles. “How was swimmer boy? Did you get laid?”
I kick off my shoes and flop next to her, the mattress creaking under the combined weight of our expectations. “No sex. But Dylan’s nice.”
She peels off her mask, making a show of disgust. “Don’t tell me you’re getting soft on me. That’s how you end up married to an insurance actuary in Iowa.”
I snort, the laugh surprising us both. “He wants to see me again.”
Andie leans on her elbow, squinting. “Is that what you want, though?”
I start to answer, but my phone buzzes. It’s Liam.
Meet me. Now. Five minutes. Loading dock behind student center. Come alone.
-L
The pulse in my wrist goes from zero to seismic. I stand, clutching the phone like it’s a bomb.
“Who is it?” Andie asks, reaching for the phone, but I pocket it quick.
“Library spam,” I say, and grab my coat.
“You’re a terrible liar,” she calls after me.
I don’t bother correcting her.
The night is colder than before, the air brittle and metallic. The campus is nearly deserted, except for the blue glow of vending machines and the thump of distant music from frat row. I walk fast, not thinking about the wisdom of following mysterious summons from men with a taste for secrecy and power.
The loading dock is a dead zone, all concrete and chain-link, the smell of wet cardboard and old cigarettes. Liam stands in the shadow near the dumpster, hands in his pockets, face turned away. The moment he sees me, he straightens, that raw, caged-animal energy radiating off him like heat.
I slow down, my nerves a live wire.
“Simone,” he says, voice low and harsh. “You couldn’t even wait a week before you started parading around with that clown?”
I bristle. “I didn’t know I was supposed to wait for anything. You made it very clear we were just “having fun.” Two consenting adults, right? No strings, no feelings.”
He flinches, barely, but I see it. “You don’t know what you’re getting into with that idiot.”
I fold my arms, ice cold. “I’m getting dinner and maybe a normal night for once. Is that so terrifying?”
Liam’s jaw flexes, a tic of anger—or fear, maybe, though he’d never admit it. “You want to hear something about your new boyfriend? He’s gotten at least two girls at Century pregnant. First one, he ghosted. Second, she had to transfer after he trashed her on social. He’s not the good guy you think. It’s all an act. It’s a ruse, Simone. Don’t be a dumb girl and fall for his schtick of a jock who’s going to the Olympics.”
The words gut me, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction. “You sound jealous of Dylan.”
Liam flushes and steps closer, hands out now, but not touching me. “I am,” he says, voice thick with gravel. “You have no idea what it’s like, watching you with someone else.”
I tilt my chin, matching him glare for glare. “You’re the one who brought a date. Claire’s gorgeous, by the way. But did she know you were tonguing my pussy in a classroom thirty-six hours ago?”
He grits his teeth, so hard I think they might crack. “Don’t do this, Simone.”